


It's a Dangerous Game

by weirdlyintoclassiclit



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Codependency, Dark, Established Relationship, French, German, M/M, Making Out, Roughness, Unhealthy Relationships, arabic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdlyintoclassiclit/pseuds/weirdlyintoclassiclit
Summary: "Ibrahim didn't know how to explain it, but Sebastian's fingers always felt warm, even if it was impossible. Ibrahim had never met another vampire with skin that was anything but frigid."an interaction between LaCroix and Ibrahim, a confused Gangrel fledgling that isn't quite sure what love is but knows that Sebastian makes him feel just that much more alive.you can read this as a reader insert, or as it is with Ibrahim. it can function as both!





	It's a Dangerous Game

 

     Ibrahim didn't know how to explain it, but Sebastian's fingers always felt warm, even if it was impossible. Ibrahim had never met another vampire with skin that wasn't anything but frigid.

 

     He felt the tingling sensation of Sebastian trailing a hand down his spine, and it paralysed him. He could feel everything and nothing at the same time, his dead heart almost willing to beat once more, just for this. 

 

     "You're wearing that jacket again." Sebastian's voice was reminiscent of a snake sliding along silken sheets, poised to inject a powerless victim with its insidious venom. 

 

     "I don't dress for your approval, Prince LaCroix." Ibrahim fought to keep his voice steady, but how  _could_ he when Sebastian was here, touching him, his hands dragging along Ibrahim's shoulders and leaving sparks leaping in their wake?

 

     He heard the sound of Sebastian tsking in mock disapproval. "Then why did I catch you in the suit I bought you the other night, hmm, _chèri_?"

 

     "I can be flexible." He remembered Sebastian loosening his tie before he'd stopped him. _'Keep it on,'_ he'd whispered. The prince had. Ibrahim also remembered the way Sebastian's pointed teeth had dug into his neck, his thighs, his lips... He remembered grabbing onto gold hair and tugging, remembered silence and sound, low growls from a marble throat. 

 

     "It makes you look like common riffraff, Ibrahim." That hurt more than Ibrahim was willing to admit. He liked his denim jacket, and it was far better than some restrictive three-piece suit. He knew Sebastian wasn't fond of it, but what did it matter?

 

     "I thought that was what you wanted. For Camarilla dirty work." There was venom in his voice, though he tried to hide it. He only worked for the corroded, corrupted Camarilla because of LaCroix. Because he was...

 

     (in love)

 

     with him?

 

     "There's no reason to be like that." LaCroix's hand was at his elbow, and it tightened just enough to ache. Ibrahim read the danger in that touch, but he had created this beast, and he could tame him. 

 

     He spun around, breaking Sebastian's grip, and one hand came up, balled into a fist. There was a part of him that was demanding if he really was going to do this, if he was about to become a monster. The room, gold and black, all heavy velvet curtains and crystal-cut chandeliers, spun before his eyes, drugged him. 

 

     Sebastian caught him with ease, and Ibrahim saw the icy blue pools of his eyes darken. The edges of his lips were quirking up in a smirk, and that infuriated Ibrahim, that he wasn't being taken seriously. He felt the bones in his wrist grind together as LaCroix squeezed, and yet the pain was secondary to... whatever he felt now. 

 

     Then Sebastian's lips were on his, soft and pink and so, so sweetly invasive. He knew just how to manipulate Ibrahim like a puppet, pulling on strings and making him press closer. 

 

     (where is my mind?)

 

     He jerked himself away, the defiance bubbling behind his back teeth, so red-hot it burned the inside of his throat. "You son of a bitch!" LaCroix's hand was still wrapped around his wrist, and he pulled Ibrahim back, his lips finding the crook of his neck with ease. It made Ibrahim feel weak in the knees, made his head roll back, made everything mute like he was underwater. The way LaCroix could turn a fight into a night together, and vice versa, it almost scared Ibrahim. He was a manipulator, and he'd manipulated his way right into his subordinate's heart. 

 

     "You shouldn't say such things." That damned _voice,_ the one that could drive Ibrahim to tears, to blows, to his knees. 

 

     "Go to hell." And Ibrahim's voice was wavering, just like his resolve; his free hand came up to press at Sebastian's back, press him closer, even as his other hand was twisted painfully behind his back. The twinging ache only heightened his senses. 

 

     "You're playing a dangerous game, _chèri._ " 

 

     (i am out of control)

 

     Like holding his hand to a candle's flame, like balancing on a roof's edge, like playing a game of Russian roulette. Being with LaCroix was like all of these things. Ibrahim was addicted to the danger. He'd started this game. He was not about to quit now. 

 

     Sebastian had been so reluctant at first. Nervous, almost. Anxious. And yet Ibrahim had pressed on, and then the roles had switched faster than they could stop them. It was in the deep-set doggedness in LaCroix's eyes, the slightly-pointed tongue tracing Ibrahim's Adam's apple. It was in the bruising touches and brutal kisses. Ibrahim sometimes wondered if this was really making him happy, if perhaps he should leave and stop wrecking his own life and the prince's. 

 

     Then Sebastian bit down right where Ibrahim's pulse point was (that is, if he had a pulse), and Ibrahim forgot all about his thoughts of escape. "Again," he breathed. 

 

     "Patience, _liebling_." When LaCroix spoke, his lips vibrated against Ibrahim's skin, forced the low hum into his veins. 

 

     "Sebastian, don't tease me—"

 

     Sebastian jerked Ibrahim's arm back, sending a shock of pain flitting across the lattice ladder of his nerves. He was not proud of the gasp that ripped its way past his lips. 

 

     "You are in no position to be giving orders whatsoever, _chèri_ ," Sebastian scolded. His breath drew a trail across Ibrahim's throat, the warmest, most welcome knife he knew of. 

 

     (i don't know who to blame)

 

     "Bit of a control freak, _albi_?" While LaCroix's terms of endearment— _chèri, liebling_ —were only sarcastic half the time, when Ibrahim called him ' _albi'_ —my heart—it was always biting, no matter how much honey he poured over it. 

 

     "You are trying my patience." Another sharp jerk at his arm, coupled with a kiss. 

 

     "I'm flattered."

 

     He was released then, disoriented and dizzy, drunk on the sensations and their absence, and then LaCroix was pushing him to the ground, his knee tucked between Ibrahim's legs, his hands seeking Ibrahim's to pin him to the floor. 

 

     Ibrahim put up his token struggle, pushing at his chest and bucking his hips to try and shove him off. " _Fils de chien_! Get off!" He was always overpowered, but some nights, as he traced the marks and scratches on both their bodies, he wondered if it was always by choice. 

 

     Sebastian kissed him again, and Ibrahim tasted French wine mixed with the copper that flowed through a human's veins. He could not get enough. He could inebriated himself with Sebastian's mouth alone. His shoulder still hurt from before when LaCroix had twisted his arm, but he welcomed it as his wrists were pinned above his head. 

 

     "Tell me you love me." Sebastian's voice cut through the dim silence. 

 

     Breathless (since when had he started panting?), Ibrahim locked eyes with him. " _Ana ahib'bek._ " He wished his voice didn't tremble. 

 

     Sebastian's grip tightened. "Tell me you love me," he repeated. His tone was dangerously soft. Velvety. Rich. 

 

     "I do." Ibrahim felt like he was drowning. "I have."

 

     "Say it again." LaCroix's marble-white hand was tracing his throat now, and there was pressure, blocking his breath. 

 

     "I-I love you." Ibrahim did not technically need to breathe, but the way Sebastian squeezed around his neck made him felt like he really was suffocating. 

 

     (it's a crime and a shame)

 

     Satisfied, Sebastian let him go, drank in the sight of his gasps for air. 

 

     " _Je t'adore_ ," he murmured. " _Liebling._ "

 

     "That's tacky, mixing languages like that." Ibrahim could not smile—it was too late for that—but his eyes gleamed. 

 

     Sebastian's hands pulled at Ibrahim's belt, his zipper. He kissed and bit as he pleased, their teeth clicking together, the inhuman teeth that set them apart from the cattle of the world. They were freezing to the rest of the earth, but to each other they were feverish, almost too hot to touch. And once, just once, they laced their fingers together, as a real couple might. 

 

     (but we know all the same)

 

     They fell into their own scarlet pit of their union. 

 

     Later, they were in Sebastian's bed, and the pale prince's arms were wrapped around Ibrahim's naked waist, his chin pillowed on the man's shoulder. He was asleep. Spent. Ibrahim thought back to his new bruises circling the base of his throat, the bite mark on the inside of his left thigh, the scratches down his back. He thought back to the sweetness of Sebastian's touch and the bitterness of his kiss. He couldn't imagine himself being anywhere but here. 

 

     (it's a dangerous game)

**Author's Note:**

> chèri = French for 'sweetheart' or 'dear'  
> liebling = German term of endearment  
> albi = Arabic for 'my heart'  
> ana ahib'bek = Arabic for 'I love you'  
> je t'adore = French for 'I adore you'
> 
> this was inspired by the song It's a Dangerous Game from Jekyll and Hyde: The Musical! I strongly suggest you check it out. although unlike Lucy and Hyde's relationship in the musical, Ibrahim is also guilty of hurting LaCroix—LaCroix is just more upfront about what he likes. they're perfect for each other, but they're also terrible for each other. maybe some other time I'll write another fic exploring LaCroix's side of this story. 
> 
> if you stuck with me this far, thanks! these two were fun to write, even if they're total assholes. I hope you enjoyed reading about their dysfunctional relationship... or at least tolerated it. let me know what you think in the comments; I'd love to hear from y'all. :)


End file.
